Shameless Waltz
by Chiizu
Summary: ...title courtesy of my beta. Previously "Songs That Should Never Have Songfics". It really has nothing to do with EW, and is instead a collection of warped sonfics. Part 2: B****. Quatre and Trowa have a late night meeting.
1. If I Were Gay

**Author's Note: (because this fic needs it) Okay, this may be one of a series of unconnected songfics.  I got the ideas for these after listening to songs by Stephen Lynch (love that guy) and if you know who he is you also know that these will be...strange.  And disturbing.  And very possibly squicky.  Most of 'em will be Stephen Lynch, but I have some ideas for others.**

**Even if you don't read lyrics in songfics (believe me, I skip 'em always) ****READ THESE!  You HAVE to in order to understand the story.**

**Warnings: Inappropriate language, OOCness.  And more.  Oh, almost citrus/lime... uh, yeah.  YAY!**

~

**"If I Were Gay"**

Song by Stephen Lynch

Disturbing story by Chiizu

~

_/Here we are_

_Dear old friend_

_You and I_

_Drunk again/_

Heero Yuy never expected to be drunk.  Certainly not twice.  And definitely not twice in two days.

And yet, here he was, chugging down yet another bottle of whiskey in a crowded bar.  He knew he was pretty damn drunk considering the things he spotted floating across his vision.  Like the extra sets of arms the bartender seemed to grow from time to time.

_/Laughs have been had_

_Tears have been shed_

_Maybe the whisky's gone to my head.../_

Yes, life was damn good.  The war was over.  He and Duo were living next door to each other in an apartment building in Sanc.  He turned his head to look at his braided companion who was sitting next to Heero, though probably not as drunk.

How the hell did that happen?

Heero's mouth opened as he observed the man next to him, "Y'know, maybe the drinks're gettin' t'me, but..."

_/But if I were gay_

_I would give you my heart/_

"Huh?" Duo said intelligently.

"I said..."

_/And if I were gay_

_You'd be my work of art/_

"Wait...wha?" Duo asked, sidling closer to his companion.

_/And if I were gay_

_We would swim in romance/_

"Heero?" Duo slurred, eyes lighting up.  This was it; his chance!

_/But I'm not gay.../_

Duo's heart deflated.

Along with a few other pieces of anatomy.

_/...So get your hand out of my pants.../_

Duo froze, the nerve signals from his hand finally, belatedly, making their way to his brain and realizing where it was.

Shit.

_/It's not that I don't care_

_I do/_

"Uh, sorry Heero, I jus'... uh..."

But Heero was still talking.

Well, it was more like rambling.

He really WAS drunk.

_/I just don't see myself_

_In you/_

Duo was cradling one hand to his body as his other hand reached out for his drink.  He was listening to Heero's babbling with half an ear as he furtively lifted the empty hand to his nose.

Smelled like Heero.

_/Another time_

_Another scene/_

A lazy grin stretched across Duo's face as he took another gulp.

_/I'd be right behind you..._

_If you know what I mean/_

...and promptly spit it out all over the bartender.

_/But if I were gay_

_I would give you my soul/_

Duo's hastily made and barely comprehensible apologies to the bartender stumbled over themselves to get out of his mouth.

Oh God, he had to get Heero out of there.

People were staring.

And the drunken words were rousing some annoying reactions from him.

_/And if I were gay_

_I would give you my hole.../_

Duo, standing up to escort Heero out, promptly fell on his ass as the Japanese man paused his tirade to take a drink.

_/being!/_

Duo's face approached a tomato-like state as Heero completed the sentence.

_/And if I were gay_

_We would tear down the walls/_

Duo pulled Heero's hand, but the stoic ex-solder was like a rock.

Duo gave another tug...

_/But I'm not gay/_

...And promptly fell backwards as Heero fell out of his seat to land...

Right on top of him.

_/So won't you stop cupping my.../_

Realization of their position flooded Duo's mind.  He was sure he could see smoke rising off of his burning face.

_/Hand!/_

Duo's hands were quickly removed from the body parts they'd been resting against and Duo attempted to wiggle free of Heero's mass, which was centered right on top of him.  It wasn't working, though.

This was starting to get annoying.

These pants were starting to get tight.

_/We've never hugged_

_We've never kissed/_

Okay, that was true, Duo thought with some regret.  Not that he hadn't tried, of course, he had!  But Heero wasn't the most touchy-feely person in the world.

Usually.

Heero shifted his weight.__

_/I've never been intimate_

_With your fist!/_

Oh, crap.  He'd just moved that hand and now, after Heero's shifted weight, his hand was once again resting on a rather...inappropriate place.

_/You have opened_

_Brand new doors/_

This was freaking him out.

Duo pushed and rolled, starting to run away from the obvious imposter in Heero's body.

_/Get over here and/_

Duo's hand was snagged.

_/Drop/_

The grip on his arm pulled him backwards and sent him toppling right onto Heero, in the middle of a crowded bar, with everyone there (who was still conscious) watching.

_/Your/_

Fuck.

_/Drawers!/_

Duo gaped.

Fuck.


	2. Superhero

**Author's Notes: Well, this one was requested and, after taking a look at it, I realized that I simply had to do it.  It practically wrote itself.  This one...less squicky.  Yeah, I know, disappointing, but read on!**

**Again, in this particular piece: reading lyrics=happy!  Otherwise it's a pretty boring story.  ^.~**

**Warnings: Ah...humor, language, OOCness?  Wufei.  Yes, that's a warning, but you just keep reading!  Oh hell, does anyone care about the warnings?**

~

**"Superhero"**

Song by Stephen Lynch

Screwed story by Chiizu

~__

Wufei never meant to be wandering the streets this late at night.  Ever.  In his life.  In his mind two o'clock in the morning was past all sane bedtimes.  And yet, here he was halfway in between a tattoo parlor and a porn shop, stalking down the middle of the sidewalk like he owned the place.

Hey, he was a Preventer, he did.

He'd always wanted to be looked up to.  No, not like the bums were looking up at him from their position sitting on the ground, like as a role model.  Even as a child that had been his dream.

_/If I could be a superhero_

_I would be...Awesome Man_

_I'd fly around the world fighting crime_

_According to my Awesome Plan/_

More specifically, he'd wanted to be a superhero.

Looking around he decided that this place needed a superhero.  It was damn filthy.

_/And if I saw criminals trying to lie_

_Hurting other people and making them cry_

_I'd haul them off to jail in my Awesome Van_

_'Cause I would be Awesome Man/_

For example, if he were a superhero he could stop the robber currently holding a gun to that cashier's head inside the liquor store to his left...

...disregard that at the moment he had a gun in his pocket and every authorization to use it.

Oh, well.

_/Now some criminals want you to be a criminal, and they offer you things like drugs, and alcohol.  But we know what to do kids!  We just say "no!"_

_If I could be a superhero_

_I would be...Drug-Free Boy_

_Telling the world of the evils of drugs_

_And all of the lives they destroy/_

Drugs.  Now there was a sure-fire path down to hell.  He snorted.  Idiots do drugs.  Chang Wufei was not an idiot.  Therefore, Chang Wufei did not do drugs.

It was like math.

_/Well I'd take all the junkies - he's getting so high_

_With their needles and bongs and their sticks made of tie_

_As I burned them alive I would squeal with joy_

_'Cause I would be Drug-Free Boy/_

And those filthy junkies--lying passed out in the alleys like they owned the city--who would want to be like them?!

_/If I could be a superhero_

_I'd be immigration dude_

_I'd send all the foreigners back to their homes_

_For eating up all of our food/_

Immigrants, that's who.

Wufei nodded.

Filthy foreigners.  They took all the good positions at the Preventers, leaving Chang Wufei with scraps.

Okay, maybe not scraps...more like a TV dinner.

He hated TV dinners.

_/And taking all our welfare and best jobs to boot_

_Like landscaping, dishwashing, and picking our fruit_

_I'd pass a lot of laws to get rid of their brood_

_'Cause I'd be immigration dude/_

Yup, that was what was wrong with the world.  Immigrants.

He nodded again.

After all, _that bastard was an immigrant._

Immigrant bastard.

_Now kids, you could make up your very own superhero. If you could, who would it be?_

_If you could be a superhero_

_Would you be justice guy?_

_Make sure people get what they deserve_

_Especially women who lie/_

If he had his way...

_/Like if a wife left her husband with three kids and no job_

_To run off to fucking Hawaii with some doctor named Bob_

_You could skin them and drain them of blood so they'd die...especially Bob_

_Then you would be justice guy/_

Wufei cackled menacingly at his thoughts, frightening some punk walking by.  The insanely cackling Chinese man didn't notice, however, caught up in his gore-filled thoughts as he was.

_/Or, you could be more subtle_

_No, I didn't mean to be vague_

_Give her the mad cow disease; let him die of the plague/_

A cluster of a few hookers standing around a nearby streetlight eyed him uneasily and decided to move....

His fanatical, gleeful screeches haunted them all the way to the next city.

_/As long as they suffer for their terrible lie...especially Bob_

_Then you would be justice guy/  
  
_

Yes, kill...KILL!

_/Yes, then you would be, a superhero, like me./_

[Next morning, Preventers]

"Yes, Une?  I'd like to take a short vacation.  Oh, shouldn't take more than a few days.  Where?  Oh, Hawaii...."


	3. Bitch

**Author's Note: **This one is 3+4+3...I'm switching between pairings for fun.  This song and story came to me out of no where late one night and I thought...It's perfect!  Yes, another Stephen Lynch song...believe me, these are the MILD ones.  *evil grin*

I wrote this at 2:30 in the morning.  I'm stressed out about exams.  This is what happens.

**Warnings:** Shounen ai...bad language...stupid humor...

Oh, and **READ THE LYRICS!**

~

**"Bitch"**

Song by Stephen Lynch

Distorted story by Chiizu

~

_/Had to see you one last time/_

Quatre Raberba Winner, one of the most powerful and influential people in the Earth Sphere, twitched in annoyance as his phone calls were left unanswered.  He stared at the phone forlornly, wondering how he could get a hold of Trowa.  He hadn't seen nor heard from the former Heavyarms pilot since Trowa had walked out on him.

He sat down and rubbed at his temples, trying to alleviate the headache that seemed to have blossomed there.  Quatre chanced a glance up at his computer screen, eyes widening when he saw the mail icon.  Moving his mouse to click on it, he almost laughed aloud as he read it.  Finally, Trowa had replied to his—Quatre glanced at the mail statistics in the corner of the screen—two hundred and twenty-eighth letter.

_/There's something on my mind/_

'Quatre

'Meet me in the street in front of your house in ten minutes.

'Trowa

'P.S. Stop e-mailing me!'

_/How do I say what needs to be said?/_

Quatre arrived at the designated location nine minutes later, his chest heaving with ragged gasps as he put his hands on his knees in an effort to catch his breath.  Trowa's e-mail had seemed innocent enough...if you overlooked the fact that his mansion had a mile-long driveway.

His efforts proved not to be in vain, however, as Trowa stepped out from behind some decorative shrubbery.

"Ow, those things have fucking thorns in them," Trowa muttered as he walked over, cursing himself for wearing only a t-shirt due to this warm night and rubbing the scratches on his bare arms.

_/Words are...hard to find/_

"Trowa," Quatre breathed, his voice trembling.

"Yes," Trowa agreed.  "Now what do you want?"

Anger crossed Quatre's face as he met Trowa's gaze, quickly chased by shock and the visible pain of loss.  The loss of something so precious to him.

_/How about bitch, give me my money/_

"Trowa, you goddamn, son of a bitch, gimme back my money!" Quatre yelled, lunging at his ex-boyfriend.

"Holy shit!" Was all Trowa managed as he was suddenly under attack by a very vicious and very angry politician.

_/I want my money and I want if fast/_

Quatre gave a roar and swiped his claws—er, fingers—at Trowa's eyes.  Said eyes widened in fear upon seeing the angular flesh of doom heading towards them before Trowa grabbed Quatre's wrists.  With an almighty heave he managed to flip them over, landing on top of the Arabian.

Quatre fought like one possessed by a pissed off and drunk Russian spirit.  He growled as he squirmed, attempting to free his hands.

"Quatre, calm down!" Trowa yelled, struggling to keep the wrists pinned.

"You took my money!" Quatre screamed again.

_/Hey, bitch, give me my money/_

"What?" Trowa asked, confusion seeping into his expression.  "I borrowed ten dollars to buy some McDonalds."

"You took my money and left me!" Quatre roared, bucking his hips to remove the heavier man from on top of him.

"I ate there and did some paperwork on my laptop!" Trowa exclaimed as he backed away from the feral businessman.  "I was barely gone two hours!"

"My money!!!" Quatre shrieked, lunging.

_/Else I'm 'bout to take it out your ass/_

Police and an ambulance arrived at the scene twenty minutes later.  They were left to wonder how such a petite young man could beat someone half to death, as they couldn't get an answer out of the Winner heir, who was reportedly seen stroking a dollar bill and whispering, "my precioussss...."


End file.
